


Who Loves You, Baby?

by TheOtherCourse (kanevixen)



Series: Tom and Abigail Series [62]
Category: Actor RPF, British Actor RPF, Marvel Cinematic Universe RPF, Real Person Fiction, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Arguing, Estrangement, F/M, Friends to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-13
Updated: 2019-01-16
Packaged: 2019-09-17 06:24:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 17,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16969371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kanevixen/pseuds/TheOtherCourse
Summary: When Tom’s fiancee, Abigail, is offered a once in a lifetime opportunity to tour Europe with a small theatre group of four, the stress of the terms of the contract causes tension between the couple. Can they stay together despite the multiple obstacles?





	1. Ravenous

**Author's Note:**

> **Ravenous**

I was so engrossed in the research I’d been at for hours already that I missed Abby’s entrance. Eight tabs open on my computer to six different websites, two open text books upon the counter top on either side of the keyboard, loose pieces of paper scattered around, a pen behind my ear and another swinging between my fingers, I was so deep in it that I didn’t know she was there until her hands slid from my shoulders down my chest. Holding me from behind, her breasts pressed to my back, she blew a stream of air into my ear, and commanded my attention.

With my research quickly forgotten, I leaned back against her soft curves, hummed and closed my eyes to enjoy her, my Abigail.

“Babe, I’m home,” she whispered in my ear, gently nibbling on the soft tissue below.

I lifted her left hand to my lips to leave a kiss in the middle of her palm and another on the ring I’d placed on her hand a few weeks ago. I sighed happily, relaxing into her embrace, “My Abby, I’m… I love when you’re home with me.”

Her hands playfully scratched at my chest as she reviewed the mess before me. “How long have you been at this?”

“Hours,” I confessed regrettably, my tone hoarse from not being used.

“Did you take a break at all?”

I shook my head as she nuzzled along my neck, leaving butterfly kisses and tiny licks there. “Not a tick. I lost track of time, one piece led to three more, which led to three more, chasing more and more information. You get the idea. It’s all so fascinating. Did you know-“ I was cutoff from sharing a wealth of information I’d learned by a very distinctive love bite along the nape of my neck from my very impatient fiancée. Laughing lowly, giving her more access, I hummed again with the sensation and distraction of it, falling into her ploy quite willingly.

Separating from me slightly, she licked her mark upon my skin before saying, “Did you know,” she teased. “How long I’ve been here? I was able to get naked before you even noticed.”

Swiftly I spun around in the stool to take in the gorgeous view that her luscious curves provided. Devastation set in immediately to find her fully dressed and cackling at me. She was bent over at the waist, her hands grazing her knees, her cheeks inflamed in pink with her mirth. “Abby, that’s,” a giggle caught in my throat, her laughter absolutely infectious. “That’s-tha-tha-that’s,” a few more guffaws of laughter sounded from my chest as Abby tried to catch her breath, doubled over. “That’s not funny!” I protested, dissolving into giggles with her and pulling her into my arms.

As we both recovered from the fits of laughter, I informed her mischievously, “You are an evil woman.”

She shrugged coyly, “Well, I could’ve been. You were so wrapped up in your books and work. It’s my turn.”

“I feel as though I should throw you over my shoulder and march you to the bedroom, caveman style, grunting and slapping your arse along the way.”

“What’s stopping you?” She treaded her fingers through my hair and leaned into my ear. Seductively she whispered, “Only if you promise to pull my hair and rock my world like you mean it.” My blood boiled with the need to fill her request, surging and rushing to the cock, making me almost instantly hard.

Not a beat or a breath separated the utterance of those words passed her lips than I, in fact, had her swung over my shoulder with her squealing all the way to the bedroom. I lightly swatted the delicious curve of her backside along the path of the hallway, earning gasps of delight and mimicked slaps from her on my rear. We landed in a messy pile of limbs, curses, and grunts after I threw her down in the middle of the mattress, passionately hungry mouths meeting in the center of all of it.

Doing as she asked, I buried my fist in the mass of her hair and guided her head sideways with a loving yank of her tresses. In our time together, we’d perfected the art of loving roughness, so as not to hurt one another, but still madly lustful shows of desire and affection. She moaned into our kiss in approval, locking her thighs tightly around my hips and her heels digging into my lower back.

Taking hold of her wrists, I trapped them in one of mine above her head as I pressed my weight into her. Abby struggled against my hand, but I held fast, retaliating for her teasing from a few minutes ago. I rocked my fully engorged erection, held back by my trousers, into the apex of her legs. The woman beneath me whimpered in her throat, feeding the sound into the hollow of my mouth, my tongue tasting the vibration of it.

My unoccupied hand found the task of molding her breast, squeezing the soft flesh roughly, pinching the awakened nipple between two fingers. Another wordless sob echoed between us, filling the walls of our shared bedroom. Her hips thrust and wiggled against mine wildly, invoking mad lust from deep down.

My hand abandoned its station on her breast to sneak between our bodies and unfasten her jeans. Once open, I tucked my hand deep within her knickers to test how ready she was for me. The tip of one finger shallowly dipped into her moistened heat, her mouth leaving mine to beg. “Oh, Tom… oh fuck me please… please, please, please….” Her center squirmed as I lazily traced her sex from top to bottom, bottom to top, just so to drive her crazy with the hint of more.

She strained beneath me, entirely at my mercy, my command. I lowered my head to her breast, biting through her t-shirt and bra, creating another cry of frustration. I looked down in her blue eyes, alive, alight and large with arousal and sexual need. Her breath rushed and hurried in and out of her lungs, my attention on her quickening her pulse. I demanded softly, “Say my name, Abby.”

“Thomas!”

The immense need to hear my name from her was something I always sought. The sound of it was lovelier than words could ever express, and stroked the primal, possessive, alpha male’s ego alive in me. It was a barbaric thought, but it was a claim over her that I craved, needed because she owned me so completely. She was mine thoroughly, as much as I was hers.

I forcibly pushed two fingers into her and I was rewarded for my efforts with my name from her lips again. My length twitched within my trousers, swelling and straining to get at her. Wasting no time, I concentrated on pleasuring her quickly so I could fuck her properly. As my fingers plundered her heat, my tongue plundered her mouth, the pace sloppily effective. My thumb manipulated her clitoris as I found her elusive pleasure point hidden inside her. The soundtrack of her moans, noises of pleasure, groans, whimpers, and cries in the back of her throat was a refreshing drink for me, and I was thirsty for more. Abby’s legs squeezed almost impossibly around me in her heightened greed to find release.

With the focus on her pleasure centers, ecstasy slammed into her within minutes, her body thrashing under me. Pride bloomed in my chest powerfully as I felt a rush of warm moisture pour from her center coating my fingers and spilling into her knickers. It wasn’t the first time I got that response from her, but it didn’t happen often.

“Oh my Abby, my beautiful Abigail, you’ve been thinking about me today.”

Still breathing heavy from her orgasm, she breathlessly agreed, “Yes.”

“I can tell. Your body gave you away. What a stunning response to my touch, so gorgeous.”

“I don’t want to talk, Tom. I need to feel you. Fuck me. Please fuck me.”

I groaned around a love bite I left on her neck as peeled my trousers off my hips. Abby released the hold her legs had on my waist so I could free her of her clothing. I shed the rest my shirt, needing to feel all of her. Abby raised her hands back over her head, relinquishing all power to me as we did on occasion. She trusted me so much that my heart thumped a little harder in my chest with the satisfaction of it.

I crawled over her body again, leaving a lingering open mouth kiss between her legs, tasting her arousal, her essence, her testimonial of what my touch did to her body. In a show of complete love and adoration, I kissed her mouth and let her taste herself from me as I filled her with my cock. Caressing my hand, following the arch of her arm above her head, I resumed my hold on her wrists. I propped my weight on both hands as Abby coiled her legs back round my waist.

Taking it slow at first to revel in the sensations of her body stretching and hugging me was enormous, warm, welcoming, and utterly perfect. Impatient as she was feeling, I knew our lovemaking would go on for most of the evening, so this go was about pleasure. Sheet, utter and mind-numbing pleasure, I picked up the pace of sliding, gliding, and fucking her into the mattress.

Gritting my teeth, I growled, “Say my name, love.”

She cried out, “Thom-as! Har-der!” each syllable punctuated by a jolt of my length into her. All I could do was comply, retreating and sinking back into her at a faster pace. I glanced down our sweat slicked skin, to watch her sex accept mine, my cock glistening with our mixed arousal.

“So good, Abby… so good,” I breathed out with every push into her depths. Abby’s endless litany of sexual, sensual sounds joined that of our skin slapping against one another. The frenzied gait of my rocking hips raised us to the inevitable, and I could feel her heat begin to quiver around my swelling cock. “Let go, my beautiful love. Come undone for me.”

With a few more thrusts and a roll of my hips brushing my pelvic bone into her clitoris, Abby curled off the mattress as her climax claimed her entire body. She paused, went absolutely silent and then collapsed as her heat rippled and convulsed around my length. I continued through, riding out her pleasure, allowing her body to pull my completion from me. It coiled deep in my groin, spread out to my stomach and then my limbs, and suddenly euphoria exploded, spilling into her with violent twitches of my length, my sack pulling with my release.

Abby wouldn’t let me untangle from her, even as the last of the effects wore off, she wouldn’t let me go. I released her wrists and she held me close, almost desperately, afraid I would disappear. I leaned over her with the elbows on either side of her, my hands buried in her hair.

Her gaze finally landed on my eyes, and her face was serious, her eyes wide with worry. I kissed her sweetly and asked, “What’s with tense face, baby?”

She reached up silently, ran her fingers though my hair a few times, and traced the lines of my face with her fingertips. Finally, she said, “I got a phone call today. We need to talk.”


	2. Confession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Confession**

I didn’t like the ominous tone in her voice, the longing desperation that shifted her timbre lower, or the foreboding statement that hung between us, suspended between her lips and mine. She stole my breath with the how serious she got and I wanted to go back to losing myself in her. She’d been so forward, so wanting, so needing when she got in that I really should’ve known something was going on in her head.

“What is it, love? Why so gloomy?” I asked as I eased off of her. I held her face between my hands, feeling her warmth and her glow from her orgasm fading away. “Talk to me, Abigail. Let me fix it.”

She took a deep shaky breath, anxiety marring her face, her eyes leveled on my chin rather than my eyes, and could feel the tension seep into her as I held her to me. Her small hand traced invisible indiscernible patterns about my beating heart, the heart drummed a steady rhythm only for her. “Do you remember that director I worked with… that project I did with Benedict?”

“Yeah, James… yeah, he’s a good bloke. I knew him when I was doing Cheek By Jowl.”

“Oh, that’s right! Of course you did, I remember the cast party now.” Abby could never quite understand how small the London theatre community was, and how many I worked with in the past. Her hand fluttered against my bicep, unable to keep still, her nerves getting the better of her. I grasped it in mine, trying to reassure her, trying to calm her nervousness. “James phoned me a few weeks ago while I was having my morning Starbucks. He wanted me to know that he really enjoyed working with me, knowing how Ben and I don’t get on. He was impressed with everything I put into that, and all the energy I put into that production.”

“That’s an enormous compliment, baby and so well deserved. You’re my star,” I reminded her with a peck on her forehead. “That’s an incredible achievement to have a contact like him. He’s got acting, directing and producing credits to his name. Fantastic ally there, actually.”

She nodded knowingly, yet her eyebrows knitted together. “He mentioned then that he would be back in London and he’d like to see me for a meeting. I didn’t say anything or tell you, because I honestly forgot and I didn’t think anything of it.” Abby continued avoiding my eyes and her breath quickened as her agitation became more apparent. She was flustered, and scrambling for all the things she had to say, forgot to say and trying to communicate. “I mean, of course, having him as a contact and a reference is huge, but it’s just not something I think about all the time,” she explained in a rush, the words falling from her mouth in one big run.

I caressed my hand over her hair, to remind her that I was there for her emotionally, physically, in any way she needed me. “No worries, love, you’re telling me now.”

She snuck a peek at my eyes that were trained on her, concentrating on her and all she had to tell me. She quickly averted her gaze again, searching for the right way to continue. “He phoned me again today, in between one audition and another. We spoke for a bit, but couldn’t come up with a good time to meet up next week. He called me again after my second audition and asked to see me today.”

Controlling my natural response for concern over another man wanting to see Abby, I took a minute to remind myself that she was in my arms in my bed with my ring on her finger. I modulated my voice so I didn’t sound upset or hurt or worried, “Did you see him?”

“I did. I met with him right in Leicester Square. He took me to Starbucks, and we did the entire catchup thing… what he’s been doing, what I’ve been doing since we last worked together.” She went silent for a few moments, collecting her thoughts, composing herself in a very small way. She squeezed my hand and sighed again. “He asked for a copy of my updated CV and headshot, and I gave him that.”

“Does he want you for a new project?”

“In a way, yes…”

“Baby, that’s amazing! You should be thrilled!”

Abby shook her head again. “Tom, babe, he wrote a play with me in mind. He wrote a play for me.” She looked positively gobsmacked and incredulously bewildered.

I was excited enough for the both of us. I sat up in the middle of the bed, legs positioned indian style, and urged her up into the same position directly in front of me. “Abigail, that’s breathtaking… extraordinary! Truly remarkable! Why aren’t you Abby-level excited?”

“That’s a huge undertaking, a monumental responsibility, because it’s a one woman show. I’d have to carry the entire show… I mean, I’m sure the script is solid, James is good. But I’d be the only one there to pull it off convincingly, it’s not about reacting and feeding off of someone else.”

Placing my hands on her cheeks, I encouraged her to look at me. “Abigail, sweetheart, you are absolutely ready for this. This could be your chance. It’s quite flattering to have someone write something with you in mind. And you are a star, you deserve this level of attention and artistry.”

Her blue eyes were still shimmering with worry, and looked positively fragile, small. As was her way, she was pulling and folding in on herself, making herself as tiny as possible to avoid getting hurt. She was on the verge of tears or hysteria or some kind of emotional explosion. “But, Tom, that’s not all! That’s not all of it!”

“Hey, baby, I’m here. It’s alright. What’s the rest of it?”

“Because he’s producing the show on his own, between him and his brother Michael… they can’t afford to produce the play for the West End right off. He was saying something about six months to a year of out of town tryouts, theatre festivals, that kind of thing.”

I sensed that this was my moment of truth in all of this, the drama she’d built around all of this. Her running home to me, begging to be close to me made sense in Abby world. She clung to me, needing the physical confirmation that I loved her and that I was there for her.

With my career, she tolerated my being away many times, not because she wanted to, but because she had to. I couldn’t always bring her along, and there wasn’t always a convenient time for visits. Facing the possibility of Abby not waiting for me when I returned home seemed unfathomable. We could visit each other, of course, when the possibility presented itself; she wouldn’t necessarily be far from London, a few hours by train here and there. Up to this point, her career never took her away from London before and I’ll admit that I didn’t like the idea of her being away.

I couldn’t be selfish about an opportunity like this for her. She would have to face a lot of her personal fears about being away and being outside her comfort zone. I would have to manage my own insecurities about having her away, around other men. Abby would never cheat or stray from me intentionally, but a lot of bonding can happen on the road, on tour, priorities shift. I’d dated my fair share of actresses while on tour, leaving broken hearts in nearly every city when I was in my twenties. My girl wasn’t like that at all, but being on tour is a different world and it can change a person.

I was ready to leave that behind me and begin my life with Abby. We hadn’t yet discussed any details when it came to the wedding, only that we were engaged. I placed the diamond on her finger to prove that I was ready, and I thought she was ready as well. She agreed to be my wife, and that’s where things halted. I didn’t like that there was a possibility that we might have to postpone even beginning to plan our nuptials, but I would wait for her.

For the sake of her career, because this could prove to be a huge step in her ambitions, I had to put on supportive fiancée hat, and not the jilted fiancée waiting for her to return.

Abby looked at me expectantly, examining me for some sort of response to the complication, possible wrench in our future plans. I pulled her across my lap and into my arms and said truthfully, “I think it’s a once in a lifetime opportunity, my love, and it would be an amazing addition to your CV. But it’s not a decision for me to make, you have to do what you feel is right for your career, your ambitions, your hopes. I can help you with pros and cons, play devil’s advocate, and help you make this decision, but I’m not going to stand in your way.”


	3. Money

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Money**

Abigail, the vexing, precious creature, stared at me puzzled for a long time, silently contemplating, playing over what I’d said. I was intensely proud of her, in how far she’d come, how much she’d accomplished and where she was headed. She was magnificent the first time we worked together, and the second time she was angelic, majestic and perfect. I wasn’t surprised that James wanted her and her charisma, only shocked she still needed to audition for anyone. My girl was good enough for directors to be knocking down our door offering her another starring role.

Her fingertips found the curls of my hair, twirling strands around in tight circles, her teeth nibbling and biting at her lower lip. This was one of those times that I wanted to crawl into her brain, pull a Magellan, and explore, navigate and settle her thoughts. The anxiousness was strumming through her, a slight tremble coursing through her muscles. “Abigail?” Her eyes darted from side to side, unfocused, but my question brought her back to the present. “Did James give you a script or a time frame to begin rehearsals or salary?”

She adjusted from sitting across my lap to straddling my thighs as I straightened my legs forward, her version of getting closer. Our naked flesh shaped together in the most comfortable way, my hands caressing circles into her lower back, centering and soothing in any small way. “I don’t have a script yet and he didn’t offer a contract or anything. He wanted to tell me that I’m his first choice, that he wrote it for me, and if I was available. Mostly, I think, he wanted to know if it was something I was interested in doing.”

“What are their plans for the play? The West End?”

She nodded somberly. “Eventually, if they can… if they gain enough momentum and interest, and additional backers. James and Michael need more money.”

I ran my hands over her hair again, showing her the affection she needed. “They couldn’t be offering you a great deal in compensation. This would be a labor of love more than a pay gain, right?”

She nodded again, her eyes wide with apprehension and nerves. “I don’t know if this is something I can afford to do, Tom. I don’t have the luxury to not pay bills.”

“If this is something you decide you want to do, I can cover us for a year,” I said pragmatically, knowing how proud she was about sharing financial responsibility. I don’t make a huge amount as Marvel got me cheap as a newcomer, but it was enough to live comfortably. My flat was paid for, but Abby and I split the rest of the bills evenly. She was sensitive to carrying her weight when it came to bills, because she didn’t want to be viewed as living off my success. She leveled her gaze on me giving me the look that told me she was not satisfied with that.

“Abby, my love, if I can help your dreams come true, then it’s worth taking on the bills. I’m living the dream with my career as successful as it is and finding you. So if you decide you want this, and this is part of your career path, I’m behind you.”

She shrugged but I could tell that she was uncomfortable with that part of it. She didn’t want to be a burden or a vulture to anyone. Abby took a long time to agree to move in with me, and we talked ourselves blue about expenses and who would be responsible for what. To get her distracted because the financials were the least of the issues, it was more about talking out her reservations about accepting such a huge responsibility. “What did he tell you about the role then?” I asked quietly

“A young woman finds out she’s pregnant and has to come to terms with a pregnancy she terminated as a teenager and another child she put up for adoption, and how those events still affect her and her feelings for the unborn child.”

“That’s a rich plot, sounds like a character with a great many layers and it’s something you’ve not tackled before.” I shifted her middle closer to mine, pulling her into me so I could look into her eyes. I was her balm when she was upset, anxious, nervous, excitable or scared, and with this on her horizon she was feeling all of those emotions. “So how do you feel now that you’ve let it sink in some? That you’ve shared it with me?”

Her eyes filled with tears and wrapped her arms around my neck, burying her face in my neck. Soothing my hands up and down her bare back, I tried to keep her calm. “I don’t know,” she whispered.

“Baby,” I cooed softly, caressing her in every way possible. “It’s okay to be intimidated, it’s a huge project, probably the biggest of your career, if you decide to take it. You don’t have to decide right away. How long did James give you?”

“He wants me to read over the script sometime this month. He wants to get a space in the Edinburgh Fringe Festival in August with this project.” She pulled out of the desperate and yearning hug she had me in to look at me again. Her eyes were still bright with confusion and unshed tears, torn between wanting to accept and be brave, and wanting to keep things the way they were. “It’ll have to be a quick decision, babe, and I’m not good with those.”

Abby was looking at me expectantly again, and I wasn’t sure what she wanted me to say or do. “You’ll have to read of the script before making a decision, yes? Do you want me to read it over with you?” She nodded dumbly, her expression had gone absolutely blank. “Abby, sweetheart, I’m here for you. We’ll get through this together. I’m so proud of you, my Abigail. I love you.”

“I love you too, Tom.”

I rolled her over onto her back and hovered above her. “Let’s forget about it for the rest of tonight. I think you need some time to decompress, and get used to the idea.” Widening her thighs with my knee, I took my place between her legs that she willingly offered for me.

We made love for the rest of the evening, allowing her to forget and proving to her my love for her. She needed the constant confirmation when she was as stressed as she was, and I was all too willing to give it.


	4. Pencil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Pencil**

The script that James gave Abby to look over lived on the kitchen table for two days before she was ready to read it over. I’m not sure what the fear and trepidation over reading the pages was all about, but she wasn’t willing to talk about it and I didn’t push her. If she wanted to share her thoughts and feelings with me, I stayed close by so she knew I was there for her when she needed me. When she finally picked up the script to read it, I checked on her in the living room from time to time to make sure she wasn’t having some kind of anxiety episode fueled by nerves or doubt. She was tucked into the over sized chair under the window, her pink duvet slung around her shoulders, so she appeared as only a head above a sea of pink. Her little hand shot out from the slit in the folds to turn the page and disappeared again.

I found myself watching her for a while, taken with how strongly I still felt for her, marveling how the feeling only seemed to grow. Abigail took my breath away at unexpected moments, and I knew I would do anything for this woman in my life. I smiled inwardly when her left hand reemerged from the duvet to flip the page, and the diamond sparkled hello before being cut off by the flash of pink as she pulled the material closer. I cleared my throat to let her know I was there and asked, “Would you like a cuppa, love?”

Silently she nodded, looked up to give me a delicate smile before burying her nose back in the script. She didn’t move from that spot for hours, keeping the script propped open across her knees that she’d hooked over the arm. I brought her a pillow to put behind her back, watching her shift uncomfortably was making me nervous.

“Babe, would you mind bringing me a pencil please?” she asked when I made her sit forward to wedge the pillow at her back. She looked up at me upside down, and I could see the creases of weariness showing around her eyes. “I’d like to make some notes here and there to ask James about when I meet with him again.”

“Sure, absolutely,” I said, leaning down to give her a soft sweet kiss, despite the upside down angle. She was already distracted within the words of the play. I fetched a pencil for her from the desk across the room, letting her flip back to the beginning to review it all over again.

When I returned to her side, I knelt on the floor at her elbow to borrow her focus for a few moments, to bring her back to reality for a minute. “How goes the reading? Did you get through it?”

With a small sigh, she nodded, defeat and despondency take up residence on her face. Her blue eyes looked tired and worn, clouded with concern. She drummed the pencil against the page, the rapid-fire tippy tap keeping her finger company. “Tom, I don’t think I can do this.”

This wasn’t a new statement but rather a repeat of the day before and the day before that, ever since that first meeting she’d had with James ten days ago. Her tone was darker, drenched, seeped and heavy with self-doubt. I didn’t like hearing it, when she was more than ready for this and handpicked by James because he saw something in her that was essential for his script. I thought that reading it would help her feel better about things, but she’d clearly gone the other way.

“Baby, come with me. Come on, up, up, up…” I got to my feet and helped my girl to hers. “Bring the script, bring the pencil, bring your duvet, come with me.” Despite looking desperately confused and haunted, she followed me, her hand in mine. I placed her at one of the chairs and the kitchen table, made sure her safety blanket was tucked up around her before sitting across the table from her.

Pulling some loose-leaf paper from a pile I’d been working from earlier, I quickly scrolled two words on the page with a blue sharpie with a line down the center. Abby and I discussed the pros and the cons during the ten days since she brought the news to me unofficially. She needed hard physical evidence in front of her to prove this was a good thing for her, and I was going to show her. “Okay, love, pros. You start.”

Placing her elbow upon the table top and rested her cheek in her palm, she pouted. “I’m better with the cons, babe. The script is amazing…”

“Ah! Pro!” I scribbled that very thing on the first line before she could finish her thought.

“I’m utterly intimidated by it,” she stated simply. She broke my heart with the honesty of the statement. Part of Abby’s charm was she didn’t realize how amazing she was, unassuming, humble and modest.

“Abby, no need for that. James wrote this for you, so clearly he has faith and trust in you.” I added these to the pro column and put her doubt in the con column. I took over from there as she nervously nibbled on the pencil I’d given her for notes. “You get to experience a lot of Europe with this tour. You will have a steady job for the next six months to a year. No more auditions.”

Taking the air out of my tires, she mentioned, “No more money. Food I don’t recognize. Living out of a suitcase.”

“Creating a character that nobody else has. New, exciting material. An established, trusting relationship with the playwright, producer, and director. Something exciting and new that you haven’t done before. You don’t have to worry about costars.”

“I like working with other actors! That goes in the cons column, cheater. I worked with you,” she mumbled around biting on that pencil.

“I’m a con now? A bloke can’t hear that enough,” I said sarcastically, a poor attempt at lighting her mood. “An amazing addition to your CV, love.”

Abby stared at me over the now indented pencil with all sorts of teeth indentations, her expression wide eyed and expectantly again. I wasn’t sure what she was looking for from me, but I wanted to get her in a better place emotionally.

Teasing, I asked, “Is this the time to tell you that I told you so?” I grabbed at the pencil and set it aside.

“You told me so?”

“Working with Ben was a good idea because it brought you this opportunity,” I took her hand in mine, caressing circles into the back of her hand with my thumb. “I know what’s best, if you just listen to me.”

She rolled her eyes in an exaggerated manner. “When in doubt, use the ego, Hiddleston.”

I pushed up from behind the table and brought Abby up into my arms, both of us giggling. I encouraged her lips to mine in a heated expression of pride and love in her. When we separated again, I whispered, “When describing me, I prefer confidence, and I have more than enough for the both of us.”

Melting against me, Abby pressed her body against me in a very suggestive way, finding her nook against me. Without another word, I picked her up in my arms and carried her to the bedroom. I knew she was using sex as a distraction from the issue at hand, but she deserved a break and I wanted to see her relaxed some. If I’m honest, there was something different about the intimacy between us that afternoon, but I didn’t want to face that our lovemaking was different.

The next morning when I went to the kitchen to make breakfast for me and my love. The script, the pro and cons list and the pencil were set before Abby’s place at the table. I suspected that she’d woken in the middle of the night and came in to look over things, make the notes that she’d wanted to on the script.

The script was set at the corner of the table, the binding of the pages lined perfectly with the right angle of the top. The pros and cons list was wadded and left on top of the script. Worst of all, the pencil depressed with even more teeth marks than before had been broken in half and abandoned.


	5. Goodbye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Goodbye**

I was losing her, no matter how much I tried to ignore it, subdue it, and how loathe to have it happen, she was slipping away. I couldn’t figure out where we had gone wrong- where I had gone wrong- or why she was growing away from me. I proposed marriage six months ago, and she had agreed through happy tears. We were happy, ecstatic, completely devoted to one another. I wanted desperately for to be linked to her, by name, by hand, on paper, in emotion, properly- in the eyes of the law, before my family and everyone. I wanted everyone to know she was mine and I was hers. But Abigail didn’t do the things that newly engaged women did after earning that ring on her finger, planning every detail, hoarding bridal publications, debating dates based on when her hair would look the best, studying weather patterns to avoid natural calamities. She didn’t push to pick a date or plan anything or discuss any part of it. Abby did none of those things that a woman about to be married did.

A few months into our engagement, she was auditioning for anything and everything, excluding nothing, even television that she’d sworn off after the debacle with BBC Two. I didn’t mind Abby having her own career, as we both were very active and proactive in own projects. Despite how busy we were we’d always find time for each other, but even that reconnection time was being pushed, delayed, and left for later. I was beginning to believe later would never come.

We slept in the same bed, but she no longer slept in my arms or sought my embrace, her place against me. A wall of silence lined the center of the mattress between us, neither one of us able to breach the structure, or willing to try to penetrate it. Our sex life, one that had always been so passionate, felt more obligatory than enjoyable, and eventually fizzled out completely. We were no longer talking or had anything to say to the other, stilted and required, not because we genuinely wanted to talk. Our nights of eating together or playing together or watching a film together were few and far between, and I didn’t know where we had gone wrong. I was losing her; I could feel it and it was tearing me up.

When she put off our Friday nights, our date night, the pain burned deep inside. An expanding black hole of pain that I couldn’t escape was eating me alive, from the inside out, consuming my thoughts. I covered it, burrowed it, buried the awful truth that I was failing, unable to face that fact. I was terrified to speak up, petrified that she would call everything off, that she’d finally admit that she didn’t want me anymore, that she didn’t want  _us_  anymore.

I began watching her hand on a daily basis to ensure she was still wearing my ring, the one that told the world that I loved her and I was committed to her. The ring that symbolized our deep abiding love for one another, the one that said we were ready for the next step together, and would remain that way for the rest of our lives.

I would never forget that first Friday she called to put me off. Through my mobile, her voice sounded strained, “Babe, rehearsal’s running long. I don’t think I’ll make it.”

My heart slammed into my ribcage with the confirmation that we were in trouble. That was the unmistakable sign, one that I’d been hiding from for weeks, like a bird with its head in the sand. I didn’t want to acknowledge that a predator could sneak up on me and rob me of my life, until I was looking down the dark gullet of truth. Masking the betrayal I felt, I said, “Abby, you know I’ll wait. Tonight’s our night.”

Brushing me off further, she said, “Babe, you’ll miss the film. Go on without me. You shouldn’t miss out on the fun because I’m stuck at work. Don’t wait around, I know how much you enjoy your films.”

Slowly, I enunciated every syllable, “Abigail.” It was a warning that she quickly cut off.

“Tom, babe, it’s fine. Ring up Luke or Benedict and go to the cinema like you planned. You’ll enjoy it more without me…” she trailed off. Her tone, that sour, bitter undertone that she couldn’t disguise, that one I didn’t want to face, returned as she said it. Something was at the core of that statement, something she didn’t want me to see.

Helplessly, I tried again, “It’s Friday night.”

“Oh, I know. I just don’t know how I’m going to get out of here on time. The director’s on a rampage and we’re behind on the blocking schedule. If you can go, go.”

She rung off before I could say anything sweet or loving, to remind her that she was my heart. I should’ve insisted, demanded, ordered and pleaded with her not to break our tradition, our routine. We’d been doing our Friday night thing for more than two years, and suddenly that was gone. Suddenly I was losing her, and I was desperately thinking of a way to get her back, to let me back in, to not shut me off away from her.

My entire makeup, all my tissues and muscles and bones, all of me, ached for when we were happy, when we were together. I remembered how she used to cling to me, how she hated being away from me, how she depended on me. I feared I’d never hear her tell me that she loved me, and the saddest part was I couldn’t remember the last time I heard it from her.

That was probably the worst of the entire situation, this silent denial we were living in, I doubted Abby cared for me anymore. From the day we started sleeping together, I knew she was crazy for me, even after all I put her through, she was mad for me, until now. She was holding back on me, keeping her love, her affection, her friendship from me.

The third Friday night in a row she canceled on me, she didn’t call. It was only a text message left on my phone, one that I expected. I knew she was going to cancel, only a matter of time. I honestly didn’t think it would be as painful and gut wrenching to get a text, but somehow it was worse. She couldn’t talk to me anymore and I knew I was losing my best friend, my lover, my fiancée…  My Abigail.

I knew from then on it was only a matter of time, a matter of days, maybe hours before she actually said what I dreaded most: Goodbye.


	6. Don't

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Don’t**

The mattress, our once sanctuary and haven, shifted under Abigail's weight as she moved slowly and deliberately as not to disturb me. Gone were the days I’d delay her morning rituals with passionate, sensual displays of how we cared for each other. Gone were the days she would curl up beside me for a few moments longer because she wanted to feel the heat I generated or listen to my heartbeat before she started her day. In place of the flirty and overly affectionate Abigail was a silent ice queen version of my fiancee, sneaking out of our bed without waking me, like a shameful one night stand.

I wasn’t asleep this morning or any other morning since this estrangement began or I noticed it. I wasn’t sleeping well since she pushed, shoved and shut me out. I stayed prone in my supposed sleeping pose, frozen, letting her believe that the rustling sheets and her movements didn’t rouse me. The truth was I’d been laying awake listening to her even breathing with my back to her, trying to solve this. I listened intently as Abigail tiptoed to the en suite bathroom and closed the door as quietly as possible, with a small click. She turned on the shower and went about her routine without me.

The room was dark for early morning and the heavy blue and black clouds dumping buckets of London rain beyond the window, both matched my mood. I sat up, kicked free of the bed clothes and sat on the edge of the mattress with my feet planted on the dark hardwood floor. All I could feel was defeat and hopelessness, since this emotional separation from Abby started and only got worse with each passing day. Placing my elbows upon my knees, I hung my head, the weight of being without her, the bleakness and sadness of it, bore down on me.

We hadn’t spoken to each other, even brokenly, in two days and the fact was a heavy hollow weight in my stomach. I stood up to my full height and paced to the bathroom door. This madness had to stop; I couldn’t handle the silence, the unknown. I didn’t know the reason for this unspoken hostility or what I had done to earn her cold shoulder or what was going on in her head. By the time I reached the physical barrier between us, I hesitated, the fear of her officially and definitively calling everything off paralyzing me. This was always the same reaction I had since this started. I didn’t want to face losing her, the reality of her saying she didn’t love me anymore stopped me every time I wanted to say something, anything. The longer I took to find the courage the worse it got, this estrangement, this schism.

I paced back to the bed, retracing my steps, coaching myself that this madness had to come to a head, a breaking point. If I let this continue, Abby and I would be beyond repair. I crossed back to the door again, with each step losing my confidence and conviction to say something. I retreated back to the bed, sat heavily and resumed my previous position, hanging my head, cursing my cowardice.

I listened to her brush her teeth after her shower, and I recalled every step of her routine in the morning. She applied lotion to her skin after drying off from her shower, and applied seven precisely placed spritzes of her favorite mist. She dressed, hung up her towel and then did her minimal makeup. With my fingers deep in my hair, I remained where I was, unable to get beyond this fear.

I heard her sigh in disappointment at seeing me awake when she exited the bathroom, and that was the last straw. This pain was beyond a manageable level and I wanted to cry from it. Abby went to the closet for a jumper, maintaining our silence, avoiding me. As she opened the bedroom door to leave, I finally said quietly, “Don’t leave me, Abigail.” The words fell from my mouth before I made a conscious effort to form them, before I could stop them. “Please don’t leave me.”

She stopped, said nothing, and did nothing for long excruciating moments as I awaited my fate. Would she finally tell me what the hell was going on? Would she finally tell me what I didn’t want to hear? How much longer could we limp along like this? The mood in the flat was oppressive and dark, and I didn’t want to live in the shadow of what we were anymore. She finally said with empty bravado and cheerfulness, “I’m not leaving you. I've meetings to go to... then rehearsal.”

I stood up and wheeled around to face her, although her back was still to me, ready to leave. “Abigail, please… you don’t. I know you don’t. Luke has our schedules synced together on my iPad and yours. You don’t have rehearsal until late this afternoon. You’re avoiding me.”

“Don’t be so dramatic, Tom. I’m meant to meet some friends for coffee and read over some rewritten scenes before this afternoon.” She finally turned around to look at me, and I caught a glimpse of her left hand. Her thumb chased the diamond around her ring finger over and over in a nervous fidgety manner. I took just the smallest taste of satisfaction that she still wore our engagement ring, but it was only a fraction considering the amount of tension alive and well and kicking between us.

“Stop avoiding this. I can’t stand it. Tell me what I’ve done, so I can try to make amends and we can move beyond this… this… this impasse. I hate that we can’t even talk to each other or be civil. I need my Abby back.”

She shrugged unhelpfully and said, “I’m still here. But I really have to go now. I’m meeting up with some friends at Starbucks.” The forced happiness in her tone couldn’t mask that she was visibly shaking and a deep flush tainted the color of her skin a dark pink (even in the dim light of the room). I knew her well enough to know that she displayed signs of anxiety and stress. She didn’t want this confrontation and she was trying to convince me that this (whatever this was between us) wasn’t happening. She turned on her heel, opened the bedroom door and set out down the hallway.

I asked softly to her back, “What’s happened? Why don’t you talk to me, Abby?” She pretended not to hear me, but I knew she had, her step faltered slightly.

She stepped into her shoes, grabbed her handbag and nearly ran out the door for the underground.

“Don’t you love me anymore?” I asked the faint peach scent she left behind.


	7. Miserable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Miserable**

I cut out of an Elle photo shoot early since the photographer and her assistant agreed they had plenty material for the magazine spread, and I was about at my wit’s end. I tried to be actor Tom, but I was so distracted by the trouble with Abby. Most of the time I could set it aside for a spell, but she’d niggled into my brain and I was beside myself. As luck would have it, the reporter who was supposed interview me had to reschedule. Luke let me know by text that he rescheduled for next week and I had the afternoon free.

Truth be told, I was glad for it. This thing with Abby was exhausting, and I seemed to be fighting a losing battle just to get her to talk to me. My girl spent as much time out of our flat as possible so she didn’t have to put forth the effort to ignore me. The James project started, and she was fully engrossed in the script and rehearsals that I was barely a blip. She kept avoiding me by finding every reason to be away, and I was losing my patience. I wanted to go home from the postponed interview, drown my sorrows in a bottle of Jameson and pass out.

Our flat was quiet when I got in, so I assumed Abby was out, avoiding me and finding any excuse to be away from me. But I found her in our bedroom, standing in front of the windows, examining the engagement ring on her finger with scrutiny. She wiggled her finger up and down, and turned her hand this way and that, watching the sparkle and how it looked against her skin. She didn’t know I was there or that I’d been watching her watching it. Her expression was unreadable and I was trying to work out what was going on in her head.

Was she happy with an engagement ring on her finger? Could she feel the weight of separation by wearing it? Was she at the point that she wanted to take it off? Did it even hold any special meaning to her anymore? Or was she done with me?

I sighed heavily as I entered the room, revealing to here that I was there. “Why don’t you take it off?” I yanked at the model Burberry silk tie, pulled it over my head and chucked it on the bed.

Poor phrasing, I admit. I meant something closer to ‘Why haven’t you taken it off?’ The note of betrayal I felt laced in my tone, evidence enough that I felt equal amounts of depression and hurt from silence between us.

She gasped with surprise and dropped her hand to her side. “Do you want me to take it off?” she challenged with the unmistakable shimmer of tears in her eyes. “What are you doing here?”

“I live here too, Abigail, or haven’t you noticed?” the snark came out without my tempering it. _Fuck_ , I hadn't meant to argue with her, or antagonize her; I truly wanted her back in my life, in my arms where she belonged.

She winced at the bite in my tone.

Heaving a frustrated sigh, I raked my hand through my hair from a month’s worth of Abby’s cold shoulder. The responsibility of it bore down on me as I looked at the floor. I muttered, “Sorry.” Overwhelmed by the infinite number of questions running through my head, I quelled the demanding scream of how the fuck did we get here. “What the hell is going on with us, Abigail? I don’t understand it. I feel like I’ve lost my best friend, and... it's-it's-it’s devastating.”

She crossed her arms over her chest in a self-defense gesture and turned her back to me, staring out the window silently, ignoring my plea for her to talk to me. The tremors were back, alerting me that she was under distress again and I had to be careful. She could try and run if I pushed her too far. I stepped around the foot of the bed to get closer to her. She visibly flinched at my movement towards her and I froze mid-step. The very thought that she would believe or anticipate that I would hurt her or threaten her in some way crushed the hope of reconciliation, and in that moment she felt completely unattainable. I couldn’t get her back if she shied away from me like an abused animal.

With emotion heavy in my chest, I spoke through the pain and clenched teeth. My voice cracked over each word, “Abigail, you’ve shut me out before and I endured it because I understood you needed space --that I hurt you. I understood that you needed time to heal. This time… this time, we’re only growing further away from one another." I shrugged out of the suit jacket and discarded that too upon the bed. The air in the room tighter and heated from the confrontation. "I need you, Abigail. Please let me in so I can fix this.”

She stayed silent for a long stretch of time, and it was deafening. The strain rang and buzzed in my ears, only trumped by the mad thumping of my heart. I balled my hands into fists at my side and gave her what time she needed to gather her thoughts. The stress of being without her was overbearing, and I was petrified, but I couldn’t keep it in anymore. She was breaking me, breaking my heart, breaking my spirit, breaking my concentration with this split. She was so close and yet so far away. I only wanted to renew her enthusiasm and bring her back to me.

Abby’s silhouette visually shrunk before my eyes, pulling herself into a tiny ball and the need to comfort her was terrible, knowing she wouldn’t allow it. She wouldn’t let me chase away all the bad the way I always had, with my arms securely around her. I wanted to go to her, I wanted to feel her. My hands itched for her, my skin burned for her, my heart beat in my chest for her – all for her.

We had endured, experienced and loved through so much, and I really thought she would shatter me if she left me, if I lost her. I couldn’t lose her, because I’d be losing an essential part of me.

Finally she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, “Why didn’t you ask me to stay?”

“I’m sorry?” I didn’t understand what she meant.

“When this James thing came up, you never asked me to stay. Why didn’t you ask me to stay?”

 


	8. Promise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Promise**

“What reason would I have to ask you to stay, Abigail?" I asked, incredulous and shocked by the implication. "What right do I have to ask that of you?” For the most part, our careers were separate from each other. I supported her through acting projects as she had done for me. Abby brought me back from the darkness of playing Loki for a third time. The first time she worked with James when she was starring opposite Benedict, I was behind her, coaching her through my best mate’s taunts. However actual career decisions were made independently.  

She admitted reservedly, keeping her voice low and controlled, though just barely, “You don’t.” Her breath trembled on an exhale.

Perplexed and confused, I asked, “But you wanted me to tell you to say, to turn down James’ offer?” I shook my head, working my head around what she was expected for asking. “I couldn’t ask you to do that. My career isn’t any more important than yours and I don’t value it any less than mine. You would never ask me to stay, so why would I ask that of you?”

She wrung her hands together, her knuckles white with the effort, her skin bleaching under the torture. She was detached from the action as she drew another moment out, her skin protesting, and she merely cringed against it. “I… I was-wa- I wanted – I hoped…” She stopped and wouldn’t continue, shaking her head, willing away the tears, praying that I would let her alone.

“Why then? I can only assume so you could turn down the job and hold it against me... blame me and resent me for it later.”

She shook her head, still keeping painfully silent, except for her accelerated breathing.

I swallowed back my frustration to keep it from bubbling over with her reluctance to look at me or talk to me. She locked me out while I clawed, scratched and growled at the door, begging to be let back in. “So you won’t have to try and fail? Accept the loss without trying to achieve it?”

Slowly Abby shook her head again and fought back a sob. She didn’t want me to see her so broken up and struggling to keep her composure, but Abby couldn't hide her emotions. A natural actress with a script in hand, but she couldn't perform her way out of her own troubles.

After a month of her silence and pushing me away, I'd had enough. “Damn it, Abigail! I can’t keep guessing! You’ve left me out in the cold for too long. Please just talk to me.” I stood close, and waited for her to speak the truth and put words to what upset her. Oh, how she made me wait for it.

Suddenly she finally spoke, “I didn’t want you to ask in the hope that I would stay, but because you wanted me to stay.”

The hard cold truth stung once I heard it, once my brain registered the underlying meaning. A biting chill coursed through my heart as the realization hit me. All this time, I’d kept the emotional out of the situation to make the decision easier for her to make. I subtracted our relationship from the equation, but for Abby, the two weren't independent. A new project advanced her career, which was something I searched out in my own, what I hoped to achieve. Abby had to be sure to pursue it for the right reasons, and not turn it down for the wrong ones. Her life was our life.

My intentions were good, and the execution impeccable since my fiancée was convinced that I didn’t care for her. In hindsight, I hadn't chosen the best tack considering how sensitive her sea of emotions were, especially when it came to me. “Oh God, Abby, did you think I wouldn’t miss you?” The horror of it was unbearable because I discounted her feelings.

_Shit!_

I concentrated on being the model supportive professional actor and forgot to show the postponed fiancé. I'd have to wait at home while she bounced around Europe, even in the smallest fraction. I couldn’t in good conscience ask her to stay, not for my sake, not at the detriment to her career. But I finally understood why she was so upset, I didn’t express any kind of emotion at the possibility of not seeing her for six months to a year.

Her tears trickled down her face in a steady stream as she stared blankly out the window.

My heart drummed in my chest as my stomach dropped. I’d been so focused on the actress, I didn’t comfort the love of my life, assuming my ring on her finger was enough for both of us. “Come here, baby.”

Abby shook her head once more and stayed rooted in her spot before the window.

I took a step towards her but she stepped away, avoiding my touch.

Solemnly she said, “From the time I told you about this project, you couldn’t wait to be rid of me."

"God, Abby, no!!"

She continued as if I hadn't interjected, "You were so excited about my leaving; you practically had my bags packed and ready for me to go. I waited for a hint or a sign, some recognition that this-  _that I_  meant something to you.”

“Abby, that’s a unflattering picture you’re painting of me. I was trying to be supportive of your career. I thought this was something you wanted." I pet my hand down my chest to soothe the worry that sat heavy inside. "Love, you mean everything to me. Everything! I was excited for you, not being without you. Never that.”

“Not once, Tom, not once. My feelings never made it to the pros and cons list. You glossed right over that part. Did you ever think for one second that your ambitions for me might not be my ambitions for me? Did you ever ask me once if I wanted this? I like this small little life here in London. I liked my life... with you.”

“Abby, why didn’t you say something?” I felt deplorable, because I really had been so focused on her accepting the fantastic opportunity. As an actor, I would snap it up in an instant if it were offered to me, but Abby wasn’t the same kind of actor. I assumed that this was something she wanted, but I hadn’t asked her.

“I tried. I came to you first, looking to have an adult conversation. I was worried about the impact it would have on us, our life together.”

In hindsight, she had been nervous in telling me, and I thought it was the nature of the project itself. Why didn’t I consider that she was worried about the personal part of it?

Her tears flowed easily and her confession freed from her shy nature. “But you’d made your mind up in the blink of an eye that I was going, and you would do anything to convince me that I should do this.”

Had I really discredited her feelings so completely? James' play was not an easy one, and I thought all her anxiety centered around how much energy she would expend to portray it convincingly. I never once considered that she might not want to go because it wasn’t her career path or something she wanted to do, or what was right for her. She had tried when I did that worthless list. Those weren’t her pros and cons, they were mine from an actor’s point of view. Where was the man left behind side of it?

Her shoulders hunched as she hiccoughed around a sob, her frame giving into the stress and hurt she suppressed for weeks. “I just wanted some kind of emotional response from you!”

How many times had she expressed her separation anxiety when I faced months away from her? How many times did I hold her while she cried at how much she would miss me? I’d packed her up and shipped her off before any formal offer was made. I disappointed her greatly in the process.

I ached to hold her and offer some kind of solace, since I had the best intentions in mind. I never intended to hurt her, only help her, offer support when she felt weak. “Abby, my love, I’m so sorry… unreservedly and profusely sorry. Oh my Abby, I was trying to be supportive of your career. I really thought I was offering the support that you needed.”

She cried, “I wanted both! I wanted the actor and I wanted the man I love!” She rotated around letting me see all of her sorrow. “I'm not defined as an actress alone!”

“Baby, I know you’re not, but you're mine and one job offer doesn't change that. You can’t rely on me to ask a question against my nature. I couldn’t possibly ask you to stay, you would’ve hated me for it in the end. I would be telling you in no uncertain terms that my career is worth more than yours, and I don’t believe that for a moment. Not one moment.” I held up my hands to show her that I drew closer to her with no ill intent. I needed to be closer to her, offer up some comfort when she so desperately needed it. As I stepped towards her, she didn’t cower away this time.

“Next time, God willing you decide to keep me around, scream at me until I hear you. Make me listen, Abigail. Make me hear you. You have to speak up! I love you, you silly woman. If you need reminding that you are, demand it of me. You're well within your right.” I took up her left hand and held up the diamond I placed on her ring finger between us. “This. This ring gives you the right to demand that I cherish you if you are feeling less than secure in knowing it. This. This is my promise to you.”

Her watery, pink rimmed shocked expression leveled back on my eyes from the diamond, and for a moment, I thought I might lose her to tears again. She managed to pull herself together with a few shaky deep breaths into her lungs, in an attempt to calm down. We still had so much still to work out, I knew that, and I wasn’t shying away from the responsibility of hearing her out until she had nothing left to tell me. Her shoulders and the way she held herself was still rigid and stiff, so I knew she wasn’t ready to forgive me or allow me to put my arms around her.

“Did you want this job, Abby?”


	9. Frightened

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Frightened**

Petulantly, Abby asked, “What does it matter whether I wanted this project or not?” She hugged her arms across her chest, shielding and protecting herself from our conversation, relying on her defensive nature to get off topic as soon as possible. If she foolishly thought that I would let her off so easily after all this time, she was sorely mistaken. I wasn’t going to let up until she was back in my arms. “I’ve accepted it, I’m in rehearsals and I leave-”

Cutting her off, I said with a brisk, stern demand, “Enough, Abigail.”

She looked up at me surprised from the warning, forceful tone in my voice.

I was done with her avoidance and ducking away from me, and I wasn’t going to let her slink off again. “I’m giving you the attention you’ve been craving. Talk to me, love. Let’s fix this, fix us.”

Her sassy spirit warred with her wounded pride for supremacy within the pools of her blue eyes, debating over whether to argue or submit to me. She was tired of the inner turmoil, sinking into a darkness of her own making, I could see it, and she knew it. Acceptance came with another shrug deeper into herself and a visual sigh, one that filled her entire body from her shoulders down to her knees, as she looked away. Shifting to face the window again, she managed to keep her tears under control, although they weren’t far. “This may not make sense to you, but I pulled away from you so I could make this decision on my own. I always rely on you, and  _you_ wanted this role for me. Your influence – this time - wasn’t a discussion, but more of a command. I was going for this, and you wouldn’t accept anything less than what you expected.”

I opened my mouth to argue with her, despite knowing that I had approached her with the actor righteousness behind me. I never asked her what her plans were for her career in the long run, and whether this fit in with what she wanted to accomplish as an actress.

She held up her hand to silence me when I opened my mouth to speak, and closed my lips again.

I had to let her talk this out, and not try to run over her with the ‘Tom knows best’ attitude that got us in this mess at the start.

“I didn’t know how to approach the subject without losing you to the excitement of this opportunity, Tom. Yes, it’s an amazing offer and an astounding project, and it was tempting, but it didn’t fit into what I was hoping would happen in the next year of my life. I was close to turning James down or, if he truly wanted me, postpone it a bit. I’m not a spiteful person, but you wanted this so much for me, and I couldn’t find my voice to tell you my reservations, that I almost turned him down simply because I could and it was something within my control.”

She continued staring out the window and I watched over her. I couldn’t help but think how far she’d come from the unassuming girl with an enormous crush on me that I seduced in her dressing room. I was awed by how much she’d changed, yet how much she’d remained the same. She still wanted to run, hide and shrink away from any type of trouble. She was still the lost girl who hadn’t talked to anyone for four years when she moved to London and identified herself by who loved her and who she loved.

Taking another big breath, she paused to find her words, her phrases, “I had to distance myself from you, because I didn’t want to make this huge decision based on what you wanted me to be. This is a big commitment and a difficult part to tackle, I needed to make sure that I made the decision for me. In our life together, I rely on you, your structure, your decisions, your career. This time had to be for me.” Abby closed her eyes for a long moment, concentrating and focusing her thoughts. “My life changed when you came along, far more intelligent, far more experienced, and worldlier. I never had the time, money, means or inclination to leave London- or England for that matter. I’ve only ever been outside this country, into the world with you.”

“You were scared,” I put in softly, finally putting it all together and what made her clam up the most.

“I was and I am terrified. I can’t find most of these places on a map, let alone where in the world I am now. On top of not knowing where I would be- I mean really, who knows where Madrid is?” I made a move to cut in and answer her, but she cut me off straightaway. “Rhetorical question, Thomas. You know where everything is. But aside from not knowing where I would be, I have this crazy well-written script and a huge part to play, full of angst and heartbreak and regrets. All for tiny little Abigail to pull off.”

“Baby, you may be tiny in stature, but not in personality or in your heart. You’ve got this.”

She turned to me and pointed, “You say that, because you believe in me. I don’t know why or how or what or when I deserved your vote of confidence. I didn’t want to be that person, a tainted, angry one that makes decisions born of spite or rage or anything like that. I pulled away from you to gain some perspective, to decide for me what I wanted, what I needed and to reorganize my thinking as to what my life would be if I accepted this. So to answer your question, yes, I did want this project. I took it on my own,” She closed her eyes for what felt like a full minute, I can only presume to relive what she had decided to abandon. “Without my boyfriend’s influence.”

I jumped all over her slip and reminded her, “Fiancee.”

Looking up at me, she asked quite seriously, “Are you?”


	10. Solitude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Solitude**

My heart flopped and then sunk to my feet at my beautiful girl looking so torn up about the state of us. Even worse than that, she felt that she had to ask if we were still engaged, if I still wanted her to be my wife. She didn’t understand that she was my everything, and I knew that I’d let her down. I’ve always known that Abigail needs the constant reminder, the constant assurance and the constant affirmation of my love for her with a touch or a look or a word. When she needed it most, her most vulnerable, her most fragile temper, I wasn’t there for her.

I wanted to be angry with her for not saying anything, and in a way, I was furious with her that she allowed me to let her down. But I was disappointed in myself more than anything else. I’ve been with Abby for three years, closer to four if I include the months of sleeping together, and I know what she needs, what makes her feel treasured and I’d missed the opportunity to remind her. As the tears began again, I knew all too well that I could lose her.

“Abigail, you’re still wearing my ring and I don’t want that to change,” the hurt and the pain all too clear in my voice.

She looked down at her hand, examining the diamond closely, pressing her thumb underneath to make it protrude further from her finger, to make it look even more prominent. She sniffled pathetically, and I saw actual tear drops cascade to the floor leaving perfect circles of her sorrow on the hardwood floor. “You wanted me to take it off a few minutes ago. You asked why I hadn’t taken it off.”

“I did, shamefully and regrettably so, because I’ve been hurting too. I didn’t ask in the desire for you to take it off, more from the pain that I thought you were going to, regardless of what I did. I’ve been waiting for the other shoe to drop for weeks, feeling every bit of this separation and it slays me. I didn’t- I don’t- I can’t lose you and I really thought…” I trailed off unable to complete the unbearable thought.

Quite suddenly, she looked up me through her watery, tearstained face, and asked, “Don’t you understand how much I didn’t want to accept this project because it would force me away from you? I’ve been auditioning for anything and everything to stay in London, so I’d have some excuse, some reason to stay with you.” All of the pieces of Abigail’s erratic behavior was beginning to make more sense, why she pulled away from me, why she was auditioning for things she swore she never wanted, why we’d been living in this silence.

She dissolved and gave way to her tears, and it very nearly destroyed me, seeing her so upset. Her hands flew up and covered her face, trying to mask the despair, trying to muffle the sounds of misery. A lump formed in my throat almost impossible to swallow around, and I blinked back tears of my own at seeing her so sad. “My God, Abigail, why didn’t you speak up?” I couldn’t keep away from her any longer, my body moving of its own accord to wrap around her and comfort her in any way I could.

Instinctively, she burrowed into her place in my embrace and sobbed into my chest, her tears staining and wetting my shirt. Her little body shook with the force of her crying, and I couldn’t hold back mine anymore. Feeling, hearing and seeing her so broken seized my heart in a vice grip, my chest tightening to a breaking point. I hurt, I ached, and the pain was unbearable. My Abigail had worked herself into this dark corner, and I was going to have to coax her back out. “Abby, my sweet darling,” I kissed the top of her head, my tears falling into her hair. “You could’ve prevented all of this, if you’d talked to me.”

“I tried, but I wanted you proud of me. I thought if I showed even the slightest hesitancy about this – because I didn’t want to be away from you, and I’d miss you, and I was scared to go – I thought you’d be disappointed in me.”

I crushed the crying woman into me as far as I could without harming her, wanting to sponge and absorb some of her pain. “I could never be, Abby. Those are very human emotions and you should never feel as though you can’t come to me. I don’t know anything going on in your head or your heart, unless you let me in. My beautiful girl, you have to let me in.”

To try to calm her down, I offered, “You aren’t leaving forever, my love and I’ll be able to come visit you. Did Luke ask you for tour schedule?” She nodded into my chest, her face still buried there. “He’s working out when I can be with you and all the travel required from where I’ll be to get to where you will be. If you still want to be with me after all of this, I’ll be with you for at least the first week of the tour.”

She separated from me a bit to lay her hands on my chest, and she was back to staring at the engagement ring. I was immediately thrown back into panic mode, thinking this was it, she’d let go. Quietly, I asked interrupting her introspection, “You said this tour wasn’t what you had in mind. Ideally what were you hoping to do in the next year?”

Sadly she looked up at me, “Do you really have to ask, Thomas?” We let the silence engulf us again for a long stretch of time, before she went on to answer my question. “I was hoping that you would finally decide that you want to marry me, and we would do the whole wedding thing. If I’m honest, I wanted to start a family with you.”

“Abby, I decided that I wanted to marry you long before I put that ring on your finger.” I nodded to her left hand, reminding her again that I put it there, I wanted it there. “I asked you because I was more than ready.”

“Why haven’t you said anything? You haven’t asked to set a date or anything.”

“I didn’t know. I was waiting for you to start planning. I haven’t seen you with bridal magazines, or florists or invitations. I don’t know whether you want a summer or winter wedding. I wasn’t sure-” She placed her hand over my mouth to cut me off from rambling on and on as I’d been known to do.

Her tears were clouding her big blue eyes again, and I didn’t fully understand what was happening. The tears cloaked her voice in a sadness I’d never heard before, “For what? For who? You’re the one with the friends and family, I have you.”

 


	11. Cry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Cry**

All this time, we’d both been foolishly waiting for the other to say something, and I’d seemingly forgotten that my Abigail was an orphan. She couldn’t run off with her mother to search for the perfect wedding dress. She didn’t have a sister to chat up for the best font on an invitation, lingerie for the wedding night or plan a hen party that I shouldn’t know about or approve of. She didn’t have an uncle or a father or a grandfather to walk her down the aisle and give her away, wish her well. If anything, planning a big party was a reminder that she didn’t have anyone but friends to celebrate with.

When Abigail left Great Yarmouth, she left her deceased beloved family behind, and brought only memories of those she’d loved with her as her only company for a long time. In a very real way, she closed off that part of her life, due to the pain and loss. Shy and reserved Abby was not good at making friends, but excellent at holding onto them once she felt comfortable. Her flirty, affectionate and upbeat nature was infectious once she came out of her shell and found her niche, her status as a friend with a companion or coworker. She didn’t maintain her school friends because of the association with her enormous loss back at home.

Her big blue eyes, the perfect blend of innocence and a lifetime of pain, swam in unshed tears, and looked up at me with genuine honesty. The woman that had become a driving force in my life the moment she tripped into it confessed that I was her only family and I wanted nothing more than chase away all her demons and heal her. The intensity of my love for her, the need to protect her and the desire to make her happy swelled in my chest, steeling my resolve in fighting for her and keeping her in my life.

I wanted to be the only family she needed, wanted, or cared to be around.

Solemnly with the tenderness I knew she felt for me through all her stress and her timid countenance, she admitted carefully, “Leaving for a year was not my ideal, not my perfect scenario. I was hoping that if I stayed, you’d tell me the day to meet you at the church or chapel or wherever you want me, and you would make me yours.”

I stroked my hands down her hair in even caresses, an exaggerated show of my affection for her, one I took up nearly four years ago and didn’t want to be free of. With equal amounts of incredible pride and fierce love, I promised her, “Abby, you are already. I know you’re stressed and you’re scared, but you’re still mine, as I am yours.”

I pulled her back into my arms and laid reverent kisses on the crown of her head, taking stock of all she had to endure. She was facing a new advancement in her career, the loss of her home as she’d be living out of a bus or hotel for the next year, and becoming a wife, all major life changes all at once, not to discount her being reminded daily that she lost her blood relations. That was bound to alter her judgment for the worst. The last time she experienced so many changes in her life: her parents’ deaths, moving to London on her own, and pursuing a difficult career in show business, her response then was to hide for four years, kept herself locked away, away from getting close to anyone.

“Abby, you can’t pull away from me. Let me be strong for both of us, but you have to let me be there for you. Trust in me… please, Abby.”

Backing out of my arms, she turned away from me. She crossed her arms around her and said to the bed, “Maybe I need to do this on my own.”

My heart stopped in my chest and sat heavy there, the air rushed from my lungs in an instant and I felt her emotionally pulling away again. I could see her twirling, twisting, spinning the diamond around her finger, staring at it, trying to get a handle on all that she was feeling.

“Abby… don’t… you-we-you don’t have to… I’m here for you, my love,” the panic invaded and seized my voice, and I couldn’t overcome it.

She took a big shuddering sigh, attempting to tame her emotions and her panicking thoughts. Her body shook with the effort, and I knew she didn’t want to break our engagement. Abby was scrabbling for something to control, since her life felt like it was spiraling completely out of her authority. Abruptly, she spun back to me, slipped the ring from her finger, and held it out to me.

She burst into tears again. “Oh God, Abby… no!” I rushed at her, wrapping my hands around her offering. “No! No! No! I can’t… I can’t… can’t even think with that off your finger. No! Please put it back on. This isn’t the answer.”

Abby wasn’t actually able to speak through her temper, her breath robbed from her lungs, the sobs occupying her throat. I took the ring from her, held her wrist captive to restore the jewelry back to its rightful place. “Baby, you don’t want this. I know you’re desperate for some hold, some stability on your life, but breaking our engagement isn’t the answer.”

Another sob tore through her at the mention of the possibility of our broken engagement and I knew she hadn’t meant it. She really was just searching for a grip on the speeding train that her life had become. I picked her up and sat on the edge of the bed with her across my lap. Abby clung to me, arms around my neck, face buried against my neck, fingers swirling in my hair. That tiny intimation solidified it for me; she didn’t want to let go.

Soothing and cooing her softly, I calmed her, assuring her how much I loved her, how much I’d be there for her, and that we’d get through the separation. I held her as close as possible, consoling her with my touch, the very best comforting I could do for her. The tears finally subsided, siphoning off until she was silent again.

“Abigail, we can have it all. We can stay together, you can have your career, I can have mine, we’ll get married, and we’ll have a family. A year isn’t as long as you think it is. This may not be what you had imagined, but maybe together we can make it better.”

Keeping in the position she sheltered herself into against my chest, she whispered, “I’m sorry, Tom. I’m so, so sorry.”

“My beautiful woman, you’ve brought me back from dark times. This time, it’s my turn to be there for you.” My hand followed the curve of her back up and down, stroking soothingly. After a few more moments of silence, I encouraged her up to look at me, cupping her cheek in my hand, feeling the heat of her skin. Her skin was flushed pink from the tears, her eyes reddened and puffy, but she never appeared so gorgeous. “You’ll talk to me next time so we don’t have to go through all this?”

Soberly she nodded, “I promise. I’m so sorry, Tom.”

“All is forgiven, Abby.” I squeezed her to me, craving the closeness that we usually had. I ran my hand over her hair and appealed to her, “Tell me that you love me, Abigail. I need to hear it.”

With all sincerity, she said, “I love you, Tom. So much.”

The relief that washed over me was exquisite.


	12. Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Three**

Counting my blessings, I held physically and emotionally drained Abigail in my arms as she slept, curled into her spot along my chest. Tucked under my chin, she made little incomprehensible noises in her sleep as her fingers clenched and unclenched my shirt above my heart. After our exhausting talk, I still had questions for her, as I was unconvinced that I’d gotten to the bottom of her complex well of her feelings. I took pride in having her back in my embrace and she was speaking with me, a vast improvement from the weeks of estrangement.

This career move was good for her, not only as an actress, but as a woman. She may not hold desires to leave England, but I thought it would help her confidence. She was in a comfortable groove in London, rarely straying from a small radius she created for herself. Abigail wasn’t a typical woman though either, so she could very well decide that the small quiet life in London is the best fit for her.

We never discussed in great detail specific numbers, but we both wanted a family of our own, and Abby was probably more ready than I. There was a certain appeal to having her in centrally located in London if we had children. I wouldn’t shelter her if she wanted to branch out, but there was something very attractive about a stable home to raise our children.

An hour passed before Abby stirred awake, and she looked better than she had when we climbed upon the bed together. Keeping my voice pitched low, I asked, “Feeling better, baby?”

“I’m so relieved that you’re here,” she said quietly, her fingers curled into my shirt as though she was grasping me to keep me there.

“Where else would I be?” I waited a few moments before I asked the question weighing heavily on my mind. “Abby, are you absolutely sure you want to do this project? I’d buy you out of the contract if you really didn’t want to go.”

“I’m sure, Tom. I did think long and hard about it. I know it’s going to be tough and grueling, the dark themes of the play aren’t going to be easy. But I think, having gone through and survived the death of my parents, maybe it’ll help me, prepare me for when we have our family.”

“Abigail, you’re an inspiration!”

Flushing bright pink, she evaded my gaze by turning her attention to the buttons on my shirt, playing them through her fingertips of her free hand. “I shouldn’t get such praise. I’ve been awful to you.”

“You have,” I agreed. “But you get a pass this time.” I caressed my hand over her hair, reminding her that I loved her.

“Why?”

“Because I love you, and you’re not used to having another person around to take on some of your stress. You’re used to hiding, but you can’t hide from me. I’m not letting you off that easy. We’ve been through too much together for me to let you hide away.” I took a deep breath and breathed out, “For better or for worse, in good times and bad, and all that,” reminding her that we were engaged and remained so until we married. “You still want to marry me?” The question was meant to be a statement, but the vision of her taking the engagement ring off her finger flashed through my mind, casting doubt over my words.

“I do,” she announced with a slight smile.

I pressed my forehead to hers and breathed in her scent, her aura. “That’s the only thing that kept me going when you pushed me away. I watched your hand every day to ensure you were still wearing my ring.”

The hand at my buttons ascended to my face, her thumb tracing the line of my cheekbone. “I wasn’t going to take it off. I’m so sorry that I did. I didn’t mean it.”

“I know you didn’t, love. I know,” I lifted my face from hers to look deep into her eyes. “Just so we’re clear, that ring never leaves your finger.” She shook her head. “I don’t know what I would do if you took it off and meant it. I couldn’t think… couldn’t concentrate… I couldn’t breathe…”

She closed her eyes to let that sink in, revel in it, and get comfortable with it. “How did I deserve you?”

Answering with my confidence and arrogance as I usually did, I said, “Hey, love, you’re beautiful and deserve the very best.”

Her eyes shot open and looked up at me incredulously before rolling them to the back of her head. “Have we gotten to the point that you have to stroke your own ego, Hiddleston?”

I smiled broadly at her reaction, knowing I could lighten her mood. “It’s been quite a bit since I’ve been stroked actually,” I implied smoothly.

“Do you think that’ll do it for you? You think you’re on the right track with that?”

“That remains to be seen. I’m hoping…”

“Always the optimist,” she said with a wink. I laughed and pulled her closer, if it was humanly possible to be any closer. “Ah, if not, you’ve got your right hand.”

Hysterical peals of laughter bubbled up from my belly through my chest and out of my throat. I threw my head back at her unexpected joke at my expense. “ _That’s_ my Abigail!” I loved hearing her teasing lilt, and witnessing her sassy personality shining through after all the weeks of tension and through so many of her tears.

As our giggles melted away, hesitantly, respecting her boundaries, I lowered my lips to hers, feeling bereft without some physical contact with her for so long. Her eyelids slid closed, acquiescing to what I wanted from her. I took her lips captive slowly, giving her time to break free if she wished it. When she didn’t shy away, I slanted my lips over hers, gently massaged over hers, one kiss bleeding into another until our mouths remained together.

The success of having her respond favorably to me spurned me on, kicking my neglected libido into high gear. I slipped my tongue into her open wetness of her mouth, her tongue sliding along mine hungrily. I moaned into the unreserved show of affection from her, rolling her over onto her back. Abby coiled her arms around my neck holding me to her. With her softness, her delicious curves, her being beneath me, I felt renewed, rejuvenated and restored to rights. I needed her as much as she needed me.

I pulled out of meld of thirsty mouths, and looked down at her lovingly. “Abby kisses,” I mused aloud. Delicately she smiled, touching her fingertips to my lips. “Say it, Abby.”

“I love you.”

The very center of the pleasure part of my brain sent all the blood rushing to my groin, stiffening my cock for her. Brushing my length against her, she bowed into me, moaning with the slow sensual movement. “Say it again.”

“I love you, Thomas.” I thrust into her again, earning the same response, her legs spreading under me, allowing me closer.

Urgently, I groaned lowly, “Again, Abby, please.”

“I love you always, Thomas.”


	13. Relief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Relief**

After all the drama, all the questions, all the discussions and all the declarations, the only thing I needed, wanted, craved, desired was Abigail. The primal, raw talons of lust and love clawed and provoked my masculine hormones to turbulent with her declarations of love and my full name on her lips. In the past four weeks, because of Abby’s distance, events felt out of my control, beyond repair. With her in my arms, under my body, I knew I could take back some of my dominance, my power, my command.

I knew how to play Abby’s body, where to touch her, when to lick her, how to bite her, where to kiss her, how much pressure to apply, how to love her. I had carnal knowledge of all of that made her tick, and I knew I could make her come. All at once that’s all I wanted, Abigail orgasm beneath me, because of me. In the midst of those exciting, erotic kisses, I wanted to possess her, to have her respond to me the way I wanted, because I could.

Despite my raging erection, I peeled myself from her, to our mutual disappointment. Through clenched teeth, my jaw rallying against the pressure, I ordered, growling, “Strip, Abigail.” Responding to the fire in my eyes, she immediately got up to do my bidding. Without hesitation, sensing my need for her and what I would take from her, I watched her undress as I shrugged out of my own clothes. Abby nibbled at her bottom lip with nervous excitement, unafraid, wanting this as much as I did.

I saw understanding and acceptance in her blue eyes, rounded in expectancy and craving all the same. In her wanting me to ask her stay with me from this tour, in her madness of trying to give the ring back to me, she was begging for some structure, some direction. She wanted to control something or she wanted to relinquish all the pressure of making a decision on her own. In satisfying my need to take back authority, Abby was giving it to me, in a collective and reciprocal display of trust.

I ran my hand over her hair in my way before instructing her to lie face down on the mattress. I absorbed the view of her beauty marked skin along her shoulders, down the curve of her spine to the supply flesh of her arse, following the length of her legs. My cock was purple with arousal, eager and angry to take her, to make her scream for me. Pumping my fist over the head, I said, “Get a pillow, Abby.” I watched in rapt attention as she positioned the pillow under her belly, propping her hips up.

She was a vision and I groaned with my baser need to be wrapped in her flesh, her heat, her center. I covered her body with mine, moving her hair to one side, so I could taste her neck. I caressed her skin, anywhere I could reach, along her ribs, her thighs, the outline of her breasts, her hips. She angled her head to grant me access. Her pulse fluttered madly against my lips in her arousal and anxiousness as I kissed and nipped at her skin. Sighing with the contact, she surrendered to me completely, her skin coloring with her own arousal.

“Do you want me?” I murmured into the sensitive skin of her neck.

Breathy she answered, “Yes.” She whimpered with desire as I worked her skin between my teeth. Interlacing my fingers through hers, I held her down into the mattress, the bed depressing with our combined weight, balancing on her hands. I attached my mouth to her shoulder in an open mouthed kiss, sucking the skin into the hollow of my mouth, almost viciously, eliciting a desperate cry of approval from her with my mark.

Licking the bruised skin, I inhaled her peach and feminine aroma, heady and gorgeous. Her arousal always seeped from her pores, her smell richer and more fragrant as anticipation gripped her. I thrust my length against the rounded flesh of her arse and was rewarded with my name sounding from deep within her. I nuzzled her erogenous zone at the base of her neck to ensure she was relaxed and at my mercy. “Are you wet for me, my Abby?”

Another breathless yes filled the room. Letting go of one of her hands briefly, I positioned the head of my cock at her entrance, Abby angling her middle to accept me. With zero patience and even less finesse, I seated myself deep inside her willing heat, her moistness giving way to every inch of my flesh in hers. We both grumbled out a wordless sound of pleasure, occupying every corner with sound.

I reared up and slammed my hips back into her, pushing a moan from her. Again and again, I kept the pace relentless, rocking, and jolting and pushing my cock into her center, the soft wetness impossibly clamped around my length, urging me on. She moaned and whimpered, “Oh… God… Tom… Oh… God… Yes… Please…” Her welcoming tightness felt like heaven and hell simultaneously and I couldn’t get enough. My brutal plundering of her body fed Abby’s, her pelvis rising to meet me with every push.

Hiking up onto my knees, I released her hands to take firm hold on her hips to elevate her with me. Her fingers dug into the bedclothes as my name fell from her mouth like a chant, her cheek pressed into the duvet. Bending at the waist, my thrusts continued at the same clip, feeling her walls quivering on the edge of orgasm. I whispered in her ear, breathlessly, “Feel me fucking you, Abby. Feel me. You’re mine.”

With a scream, she came undone, her body convulsing with release, her center rippling around me. I pulled out of her reluctantly, and rolled her over onto her back. She was still dazed, her eyelids heavy, her body in the throes of her euphoria. I hooked her knees around my arms and spread her open for me. Anchoring my hands on the bed around her ribcage, I watched the remaining effects I had on her. “So fucking beautiful, Abigail… exquisite… fucking exquisite…”

As the contracting walls of her sex slowed to a stop, I filled her again, resuming my bruising claim on her body. I retreated and pushed in again, feeling every ripple of pleasure through her channel, reveling in the warmth of her, the love and trust she held for me. Her fingernails dug pink valleys into the smooth skin of my back as I pounded her into the bed, driving into her like a beast of a man that only responded to her.

I could feel my orgasm coil from my groin upwards to my brain. I branded another love bite onto her left breast, forcing her to call out my name in the pleasurepain of that mark. She clutched at my back, my arms, and my hair, anything for a handle on the moment as I pushed her closer and closer to another gratifying tumultuous visit through ecstasy. “Need… you… love… you… Thom-as” she huffed out with every stoke down into her.

Air rushed and rasped in and out of my throat, with the burn of trying to breathe through the pleasure, biting back my climax for her. I knew she was close, I could taste it on her skin as I harshly scraped my teeth across her pebbled nipple. My hand followed the valley between her breasts past her abdomen, my thumb making a beeline for her clitoris. Rubbing in a circular motion, I encouraged her over the edge into oblivion. She screamed my name again as she writhed beneath me after arching off the mattress.

With a few more sloppy thrusts into her, my orgasm just within reach, I pulled out with a guttural groan and spilled hot streams of ejaculate all over her belly, my cock tucked between her folds. I jerked my hips into her, moaning and working out the last bit of my climax and hers by putting pressure on her clit. I fell into her mouth for a hungry kiss as my cock stopped twitching against her. She answered my fervor with as much of her own, and could taste her affection for me along her tongue. Her love for me was delicious, sweet and tangy, and celebrated in it.

I released her legs from the prison I’d held on them, letting her settle back. Grabbing tissue from the bedside table, I cleaned what I’d spent all over her, very much looking forward to the shower where I could properly wash her and love her more. After discarding the used tissues in the bin beside the bed, I pulled her in for a proper snuggle.

“I love you, my Abigail, my precious angel.”

She turned into me, her hand over my heart. “I love you, Thomas. You aren’t done loving me tonight. We have a month to make up for…”

“Cheeky Abby… very cheeky.”

She led my hand to her arse, and wriggled into the touch. “I can be.”


End file.
